
LIBR ARY QF^CQNG RESS. 

Cliap..(^\i.. Copyright M. 

ShelL...V:.?.. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



A BATCH OF GOLFING 



PAPERS / 



BY 



ANDREW'LANG AND OTHERS 



Edited by 
R* BARCLAY, M, A, 
t : : : Captain of : : : : 
St. Andrcw^s University 
: : : : Golf Club ; : ♦ : 




g 


1 



PUBLISHED : 



M. F. MANSFIELD 



BY 



OF 



22 EAST SIXTEENTH j 



STREET 



NEW YORK 



(L 



Entered according to act of Congress, m the 
year iSgy, by M, F. Mansfield, in the Office of 
the Librarian of Congress at Washington, 



A Batch of Golfing Papers 



CONTENTS 

J 

^ Academic Golf. Bj^ R, Barclay, . .13 

Always One Hole Down. By W, Dal- 

rymplcy . . . . . .105 

^,^ A Song of Life and Golf. By Andrew 

Lang, II 

A Visit to Gofftoon. By A. C, Mor- 
rison, 89 

"^^ Ballade of the Duffer. By W. Came, 114 
Classics for the Clubmen, By Andrew 

/ Lang, 78 

/ Dictionary of Golf. By D, Irons, . 119 
Dr. Johnson on the Links. By Andrew 

Lang, .•••.. 66 

Herodotus in St. Andrews. By Andrew 

Lang, 27 

^ Lines on Golf. By R. F. Murray, . 116 
, Socrates on the Links. By Andrew 

Lang, 21 

The Caddies of St. Andrews. By R, 

Wkyte Gibson, 74 

\i The Chelah's Round. By Andrew Lang, 1 
J The Devil's Round. By Mrs, Anstruther 

Thomson, 35 

The Golfing Ghost. By R. Barclay, 103 
The Home of Golf. By R, Barclay, . 79 



/, 



THE CHELAH'S ROUND 

A MODERN ROMANCE 

BY ANDREW LANG 

CHAPTER I 

THE odds against John M'Gum- 
naidge's winning the Golf Medal 
were, according to the Professor of Math- 
ematics, " humanly speaking, incal- 
culable/' M'Gummidge was a Fresh- 
man : he was long, lathy, ungainly, and 
wore spectacles. Never had he been 
seen on the Links, not even taking soli- 
tary exercise with a short spoon. His 
only companion, a singular figure, was 
a student from Northern Hindustan. 
The Bobhachy Lai Rumun deserves a 
more particular description. The snows 
of an unknown number of winters 
flowed over the collar of his gown, 
I 



The Chelah's Round 



while his silver beard (which in rainy 
weather he tucked into his boots) 
gave him an aspect particularly vener- 
able, but in no way sporting. Rumor 
ascribed to the Bobhachy a longevity 
beyond the aspirations of romance, and 
it was believed that ever since the days 
of Akbar he had inhabited a cave in the 
Northern Himalayan slopes. A clear, 
airy, tinkling sound, as of a claret glass 
lightly touched, which was occasionally 
heard when the Bobhachy was present 
— especially in Lecture — had in no way 
endeared him to his teachers. But as 
he explained that the mystic note was 
entirely beyond his own control, and 
merely meant that a Mahatma (or initi- 
ated Sage) in Thibet or Afghanistan 
was anxious to converse with him in the 
spirit, of course censure was unjust and 
expostulation fruitless. 

The Bobhachy could not be blamed, 
though it was remembered that the 



The Chelah's Round 



German Chelah in Mr. Anstey's Fallen 
Idol said — "They are not chentlemen 
in Thibet." Why the Bobhachy at his 
time of life (or trance rather) had 
sought a Northern University was vari- 
ously explained. The most popular 
theory was that his parents had been 
too destitute to afford the usual fee for 
manners in Thibetan Colleges (two an- 
nas), and that he was now endeavoring, 
though late in life, to supply the defi- 
ciency of his early education. 

The Bobhachy*s mode of existence, 
like that of his only intimate (M'Gum- 
midge), was solitary and far from gay. 
A cave under the Castle Rock, and just 
above high water, was thought to be 
their inexpensive lodging, and it was 
reported that they tasted nothing which 
had ever breathed the breath of life. A 
handful of pulse, the rain-water from 
the rock, served to nourish the fire of 
existence, which, on such fuel, bums 
3 



The Chelah's Round 



"with a hard gem-like flame/' Bob- 
hachy said. 

Though M'Gnmmidge was an assidu- 
ous attendant of philosophical lectures, 
there were some who whispered that 
under the teaching of Bobhachy he was 
really pursuing that mystic or Esoteric 
Vedanta which has been successfully 
concealed from European inquisitive- 
ness. In short, he was, perhaps, a 
" Chelah," or pupil of the venerable old 
Hindu. News of this course of study 
could not but agitate the parental mind 
when it was conveyed to the distant 
shores of St. Kilda, and to the lonely 
manse where Mr. M'Gummidge the 
elder tended his little flock. But still 
more surprise was felt, in golfing cir- 
cles, when it was known that M'Gum- 
midge had entered for the Medal. Lay- 
ers never tired of offering odds fabul- 
ously long, which were snapped up by 
the Bobhachy. He was prepared, he 
4 



The Chelah*s Round 



said, to pledge even his Cummerbund 
(almost his only article of dress) rather 
than not be " on " M'Gummidge to the 
extent of his available capital. 

Whether the confidence of the patri- 
archal sage was justified is a question 
of which curiosity must be content to 
await the answer. 



CHAPTER II 

THE great day of the Medal arrived. 
The Bobhachy himself carried for 
M'Gummidge. It was observed that his 
clubs were by no means new. But few 
spectators watched the start, M'Gum- 
midge's companion being but an ordinary 
player, one Jones. The Bobhachy com- 
piled however a business-like tee, and it 
was noted that M'Gummidge, as he ad- 
dressed himself to his ball, displayed 
none of the diffidence of the novice. 
5 



The Chelah's Round 



He lay near the burn, and a sough of 
the performance reaching the town, the 
odds fell from 10,000 to i to 10 to i 
against the Chelah. His second lay- 
dead, and he holed out in three. 

Then occurred a circumstance which 
none who saw it will ever forget. As 
his partner holed out in five, the strange 
mysterious tinkling note sounded on 
the green, and all eyes were fixed on 
the Bobhachy. The caddie who carried 
for Jones (M'Gummidge's companion) 
put his hand in the hole to take out the 
balls, and, as I am a living and honor- 
able man, he exclaimed — 

"O Heaven ! what is this ?" 

Though two men had holed out, there 
was but one ball in the hole. As several 
credible witnesses had seen M'Gum- 
midge's ball enter the hole, though none 
but Jones's came out, the Chelah was 
rated at three. The Bobhachy being 
pressed for an explanation observed 
6 



The Chelah's Round 



that the Mahatmas in Thibet disap- 
proved of ^* Eclipses/' and had prob- 
ably disintegrated the mysterious mat- 
ter of which " Eclipses '* are composed. 
He then put down a gutta, and M*Gum- 
midge having the honor, struck off. 
His ball, being slightly ^* toed," hit the 
old station-house, and cannoned back 
on to the green, where, after consider- 
able search, it was found — in the hole ! 

"Great is Indra!" was the only re- 
mark of the Bobhachy. "His throne 
doubtless has been unpleasantly warm.'' 

The devout Brahmin does indeed be- 
lieve that the effect of prayer is to heat 
the throne of Indra, and to make him 
bestir himself in the cause of the Faith- 
ful. However this may be, the imme- 
diate effect was found in efforts to 
hedge among the layers of odds. Prey- 
ing upon each other, in their terror- 
stricken cupidity, they brought the 
market round to loo to i on the Chelah. 
7 



The Chelah's Round 



When news came that he had gone out 
in thirty-seven (for he came to grief in 
the Eden, at the high hole, landing bad- 
ly from the tee on the duck punt 
moored in the Estuary, where he could 
not lift his ball, and a '' mashie '* had to 
be used), — when news came to this 
effect, the Links were crowded. The 
University, the Artillery, the Town, the 
Fishing population, the Clergy of all 
denominations, deserted their usual 
haunts and pursuits : three political 
meetings hastily broke up, the Cabinet 
Ministers and distinguished Fenians 
who had been addressing them were 
" left speaking," and the whole agitated 
populace crowded round the Bobhachy, 
who by this time was talking in a re- 
markable Dundee accent. 

Why pursue the narrative in detail ? 
The Chelah's play may have been exag- 
gerated by tradition, ever greedy for 
the marvellous. The stone bridge is 
8 



The Chelah's Round 



reported to have broken down under 
the tread of the excited spectators, now 
swollen by the agricultural multitude. 
The records of the game, however, 
demonstrate that M'Gummidge did the 
round in 71, thereby breaking the 
record. 

Next morning the town was full of 
newspaper reporters. But the Chelah 
and the Bobhachy were seen no more. 
Various theories as to the event have 
been promulgated. According to some, 
M'Gummidge was merely hypnotized 
by his dusky companion and caddie. If 
you can hypnotize an idle boy, so that 
he is head of his class while the influ- 
ence lasts, as any one may read in the 
papers of the Psychical Society, why 
should you not do as much for a golfer ? 
Others maintain that the whole affair 
was glamor. The Indian conjurer who 
does the mango trick, and makes a tree 
grow up before your very eyes from 

9 



The Chelah's Round 



the seed in twenty minutes, must, it is 
argued, produce a " collective hallucina- 
tion *' in the mind of the observer. (See 
Psychical Society s Proceedings) 

Others there were who declared that 
money was uncommonly plentiful on 
the Links of Leven and Carnoustie 
after the events which tradition has 
handed down. They averred that a 
long white beard, from Nathan*s, and a 
'* Chestnut Bell," with a melodious 
tinkle, were found in a room of the 
Marine Hotel after the departure of 
two strangers who never paid their law- 
ful debts to that establishment. And 
they insist that M'Gummidge was a 
novice from some obscure provincial 
"green," while the Bobhachy was a 
speculative Club-maker and veteran 
professional in disguise. 

So prone is the unaided human intel- 
lect to fly after mere natural explana- 
tions of events manifestly extra-natural. 

lO 



A SONG OF LIFE AND GOLF 

BY ANDREW LANG 

The thing they ca' the stimy o*t 

I find it ilka where ! 
Ye 'maist lie deid — an unco shot — 

Anither's ba' is there ! 
Ye canna win into the hole 

However gleg ye be, 
And aye, where'er my ba' may row 

Some limmer stimies me ! 

Chorus. 

Somebody stimying me, 

Somebody stimying me ; 

The grass may grow, the ba* may 

row : 

Some limmer stimies me. 

I lo'ed a lass, a bonnie lass. 
Her lips an' locks were reid ; 

Intil her heart I couldna pass : 
Anither man lay deid ! 
II 



A Song of Life and Golf 

He cam' atween me an' her heart, 

I turned wi' tearfu' e*e, 
I couldna loft him, I maun part, 

The Hmmer stimied me ! 

I socht a kirk, a bonny kirk, 

Wi' teind, an' glebe, an* a*, 
A bonny yaird to feed a stirk. 

An' links to ca' the ba' ! 
Anither lad he cam' an' fleeched, 

A convartit U, P., 
An' a' in vain ma best I preached, 

That limmer stimied me ! 

Its aye the same in life an' gowf, 

I'm stimied late an' ear', 
This warld is but a weary howf, 

I'd fain be ither where ; 
But whan auld Deite wad hole ma corp, 

As sure as deith ye '11 see 
Some coof has played the moudie-warp, 

Rin in, an' stimied me ! 

Chorus (if thought desirable). 

12 



ACADEMIC GOLF 

BY R. BARCLAY 

FOISTED upon St. Andrews by my 
well-meaning but misguided pa- 
rents, I soon discovered that life at a 
Scottish University was not very hard to 
endure. True, I had been so kept in sub- 
jection in the early years of my existence, 
that the reaction caused by an independ- 
ent residence in the lodgings may have 
derived much of its pleasure by compari- 
son with the former state of matters; 
but, be that as it may, I had not been 
long in the place when I made up my 
mind to pass my undergraduate years 
as easily as possible. Previously my 
athletic record had not been strikingly 
brilliant : my Football experiences were 
unpleasant to think of, as I was gener- 
ally to be found inside the scrimmage 
usurping the position of the ball, and 

13 



Academic Golf 



receiving the attention designed for its 
propulsion toward the opponents* goal. 
In the way of Cricket, too, I had inva- 
riably gone in second wicket down, and 
as invariably I myself was third wicket 
down — my modesty and unassuming 
efforts preventing me from " troubling 
the scorers,** as the papers euphemistic- 
ally remark. It was natural, therefore, 
that when I made my debut in a new 
center of civilization I should eschew 
athletics and turn to more indolent 
forms of amusement. 

For a considerable period I managed 
to find relaxation in a country walk once 
a day. When the weather was not pro- 
pitious, I confined myself to the playing 
of whist or chess — in both of which 
games I speedily became proficient, — 
with an occasional game of billiards 
with a man from London, who stayed 
in the rooms next to mine. 

I had heard that St. Andrews boasted 
14 



Academic Golf 



Links ; but although I had seen them, 
they appeared to me only as a vast 
stretch of turf with infinite pastoral ca- 
pacities. In an evil hour I was intro- 
duced to a fourth year's student, by 
name Saunders M*Bunker, who, with 
true Celtic cunning, allured me into a 
shop which I afterwards discovered was 
Forgan's. There he expressed his ad- 
miration for my physique, which he 
said was that of a man made for Golf. 
"In fact," he said, "you have a future 
before you, and you shall buy three of 
my old clubs." I smiled sadly, and 
with a mild attempt to look wise, I 
took the weapons in my hand. He said 
that this action of his would entail a 
great sacrifice on his part. Unwilling 
to be the cause of any loss, I paid him 
ten shillings, and walked off with the 
clubs. I made for the teeing-ground, 
where I was speedily joined by my 
new friend, who began to mention all 



Academic Golf 



the feats which he had performed with 
the driver — a club with a broken face 
and a plentiful supply of splicing. He 
had driven a ball across the bum from 
the tee on five different occasions — at 
least so he said to me then, although 
later, in the presence of a clergyman, 
he modified the assertion to a consider- 
able degree. He told me how in his 
first year at College he had killed an 
unpopular Professor by striking him with 
a black gutta at a distance of a quar- 
ter of a mile, thereby earning the ever- 
lasting gratitude of his fellow- students. 
I wondered myself how he had escaped 
hanging, and came to the conclusion 
that the gallows yet awaited the mur- 
derous youth. Other tales equally mar- 
vellous he poured into my sympathetic 
ear, while I employed myself in con- 
structing, under the direction of a by- 
stander, a tee of enormous height. An 
ofl&cious Caddie offered to carry my 
i6 



Academic Golf 



clubs. I declined, in as haughty a man- 
ner as a person who was about to lower 
all existing records should do. I ad- 
dressed the ball first with my club, next 
with my tongue : the first was unsuc- 
cessful, the second was profane, for I 
had dislodged a quantity of earth and 
left the ball untouched. The Caddie 
aforementioned was so unfeeling as to 
laugh. I struggled on, and by dint of 
hard hitting and turf cutting I carved 
my way to the first hole, which I se- 
cured in nineteen. The rest of my 
round was of a like nature ; the encour- 
agements of other beginners, and the 
sarcasm of experts, having little or no 
effect on my play. 

In four months' time I could go round 
in 1 20, chiefly owing to the fact that 
M'Bunker's clubs had collapsed in two 
days' time after I had acquired them ; 
and I felt that I was now on the high- 
way to fame. But I got a rebuff which 
17 



Academic Golf 



I had not expected. By some untoward 
freak of fortune I started on a round 
immediately behind what is commonly 
called a Professional Foursome — that 
is to say, a foursome in which the 
players are Professors in the University. 
Duffer as I still was, I could not fail to 
observe that I was immensely superior to 
these gentlemen. On and on they went, 
hole by hole, bunker by bunker, while 
the air was rent with the sound of break- 
ing clubs and the rattle of violent ejacu- 
lations. My insight into life was becom- 
ing larger and clearer. Theologians 
hold that religion is the perception of 
the Infinite — then I was a religious man 
— I was engaged in perception of the 
infinite. Reader ! Professorial Golf is 
the infinite : it refuses to be confined 
within the narrow limits of rules and 
the unbending laws of nature. At the 
fifth hole I was blinded by the loose 
sand and earth which came flying back 
i8 



Academic Golf 



towards me, as turf after turf was hurled 
from the erring cleek. At the eighth 
hole the course of my ball was inter- 
rupted by a large mass of broken shafts, 
which was piled up in serried confusion. 
At the turn one of the players walked 
home, having lost his clubs and his 
temper. The three remaining Dons in 
solemn silence struck off — at least they 
struck ; I cannot speak with certainty 
about the " off/' My partner and I plod- 
ded peacefully behind for some time, 
until, in a fit of f orgetfulness, I drove 
from the tee at the long hole before the 
learned men had played their fifth 
shots. The words which they uttered I 
do not care to repeat here. However, 
I shelled them from a distance until 
they reached the home hole, when, hav- 
ing landed all square, they departed. 
* * * * 

I do not know why I was sent down 
by the Senatus. Rudeness and incivil- 
19 



Academic Golf 



ity towards certain Professors were the 
chief counts in the indictment. But I 
suspect that the true reason was this, 
that these dauntless three, enraged at 
being discovered in their infamous and 
ineffective essays at Golf, had so con- 
trived to secure silence on my part and 
salvation of their reputations. 

But I shall not be so easily put down. 
I scorn to make mention of their names ; 
but any one caring to investigate the 
matter may discern the gentlemen on 
the Links of St. Andrew ; nay, he may 
even trace them by the long rows of 
loose turf which mark their victorious 
career. 

I have left the city for good. M ' Bunk- 
er tells me in his last letter that a Pro- 
fessorial Handicap had been arranged. 
The scratch man won easily in 139 ; a 
learned Principal who had been turned 
adrift on the Links with unlimited odds 
has not since been heard of. 
20 



SOCRATES ON THE LINKS 

BY ANDREW LANG 

GOING down towards the shore lately 
I met Critias and the beautiful 
Charmides, for indeed they are seldom 
apart. Seeing that they carried in their 
hands clubs not only of wood, but of 
iron, and even of brass, I conceived that 
they were bound for the Palaestra. 

"Hail to you, Critias,*' I said ; "is it 
permitted to accompany you ?'* 

" Indeed, Socrates, you may, and you 
may even carry those clubs for me," 
said Critias. 

"But," said I, "is the carr3ring of 
clubs an art, or a sport ?" 

" An art, if it be done for money," he 
said ; " but a sport, if to oblige a friend, 
for the things of friends are common." 

" Will you then lend me your putter 

21 



Socrates on the Links 



to knock yonder sophist on the head ?" 
I asked ; but he denied it with an oath. 

^^ Neither then/' said I, *^0 best of 
men, will I carry yonr clubs, for it does 
not become one who has not learned an 
art to practice it." 

Critias was now building a small altar 
of sea-sand, on which he placed a white 
ball, and addressed himself to it in a 
pious manner, and becomingly. 

" It is a singularly fine morning," I 
remarked ; on hearing which he smote 
his ball, not rightly, nor according to 
law, but on the top, so that it ran into 
the road, and there lay in a rut. 

"Tell me, Critias," I said, "do you 
think it becoming a philosopher, and 
one who studies the sacred writings 
even of the extreme Barbarians, to be 
incapable of self-command, and that in 
a trifling matter such as whether a ball 
is hit fairly, or not fairly ?" 

But he seized an iron club, and glared 

22 



Socrates on the Links 



upon me so fiercely that I turned to 
Charmides, who was now about to hit 
his ball tor the second time. 

He observing that it was "a beautiful 
lie," I asked him : " Charmides, can we 
say that any lie is really beautiful or 
noble, or are not nobility and beauty 
rather the attributes of the True ?" 

He thereupon struck his ball, but not 
skilfully, so that it fell into the Ilissus, 
which did not seem to be his intention, 
but otherwise. 

" Socrates,'* he said, "you have made 
me heel it." 

"That," I answered, "is rather the 
function of the physician ; and yet no 
harm may be done, for shall we not say 
that healing is also an art, and benefi- 
cial?" 

But by this time they had crossed the 

Ilissus, walking, one by a bridge of 

stone, and the other by a bridge of 

wood, whereas I deemed it more seem- 

23 



Socrates on the Links 



ing to go round by the road. Hurrying 
after them, I found them declaring that 
**the hole was halved;'* and as they 
again stood up before their balls, with 
genuflexions as is customary and pious, 
I said to Critias : '' Then, Critias, if the 
half, as Hesiod tells us, be better than 
the hole, is he more truly fortunate, and 
favored of the Gods, who wins one half, 
or two holes, or *' 

But as I was speaking he struck his 
ball, not far off, but near ; into a sand- 
pit which is in that place, and hard by 
it is a stone pillar, the altar, perhaps, 
of some God, or the sepulchre of a 
hero. 

"What call you this place, Critias?" 
I said to him, as he smote the sand re- 
peatedly with an iron instrument. 

" We call it a bunker," he said. 

"Is it, then, analogous to what you 
name a *bunk,' or even more so, for 
have you not observed that when the 
24 



Socrates on the Links 



syllable * er * is added to an adjective, 
then, as Cratylus says, addition of a sort 
is predicated ?'* 

By this time he was in another sand- 
pit, digging" eagerly with his iron 
weapon. 

"Critias,** I said, "of three things 
one. Either a wise man will not go in- 
to bunkers, or, being in, he will endure 
such things as befall him with patience, 
or, having called to his aid certain of the 
agricultural class, he will fill up those 
cavities, adding a prayer to the local 
Gods, anJ perhaps sacrificing a tom-cat." 

But, I having said this, Critias and 
Charmides turned upon me with impre- 
cations and niblicks, and, having first 
rolled me in the gorse bushes, and hurt 
me very much, they then beat me with 
the shafts of their clubs, and, next fill- 
ing my mouth with sand, they bore 
me along and cast me into the Ilissus, 
whence I hardly escaped by swimming. 

25 



Socrates on the Links 



**Now, Socrates/' they said, "is it 
more becoming a philosopher to speak 
to a man when he is addressing himself 
to his ball, or rather, having somewhere 
found a Professor, to prove to him — he 
being perhaps an old man or an amiable 
— that he does not understand his own 
business ?" 

But, by the Dog ! I was in no case to 
answer this question ; rather I have 
brought an action against Critias and 
Charmides before the Court of the 
Areopagus, estimating at several minse 
the injuries which I received, as I have 
already told you. 



26 



HERODOTUS IN SAINT 
ANDREWS 

BY ANDREW LANG 

156. n^HE tribes which inhabit Saint 
A Andrews are many, not all 
wearing the same dress nor using the 
same speech. Now, contrary to what 
we know of other nations, the Priests 
are more numerous than the people, be- 
ing both young and old. Of the young, 
some wear red cloaks, and others black ; 
they also wear square caps like the 
tribes on the Isis, of whom we have 
spoken elsewhere. They who wear red 
cloaks are extremely proud, and of 
those the proudest are the tribe called 
Bejants, Now, as to the meaning of 
the name, many accounts are given ; 
but that which I prefer I come telling. 
Of old the chiefs of these tribes were 
27 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

called RegentSy but they were over- 
thrown in a sedition. So, as it appears 
to me, the Be j ants are descended from 
the Regents, for B, in their language, 
resembles R, and the words are other- 
wise akin and of similar sound. Hence, 
therefore, the Be j ants are proud, they 
having no other reason to show for 
their haughtiness. 

157. They who wear black gowns are 
more instructed than the other tribes, 
having knowledge of the mysteries. 
Now, the god of this people is the 
Lynx, which I did not myself see. For 
indeed he comes to them very rarely, at 
intervals, as the Kadis say, of five hun- 
dred years. And these say he comes 
regularly when his father dies, and if 
he be like the painting of him, he is 
green, in this differing from other 
Lynxes. His priest is called "The 
Tommoris," and is greatly revered by 
all the tribes, dwelling in a small 
28 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

chapel hard by the sea. He, however, 
offers no sacrifice, nor does he chant 
hymns, but remains absorbed in con- 
templation of the Lynx. There are 
some who say that the Tommoris, when 
once he has been chosen, never grows 
old, nor does he take odds from any one. 
Others, however deny this. Some re- 
port that he is a Scythian, being de- 
scended from Tomyris, the Queen of 
the Massagetse, whereof I make men- 
tion in my Muses. Concerning the 
Tommoris, then, let this be sufficient. 

158. There is another tribe of Saint 
Andrews called the Clubmen, who dwell 
opposite the chapel of the Tommoris, 
and still nearer the sea. Their manner 
of life is this : Having built a large 
house, wherein also is a great hall, they 
fill it with ladders and paint it with 
paint, so that it smells grievously, as 
Homer also says of the skins of the 
seals. The Clubmen then perform lus- 
29 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

trations, setting urns of water in the 
Hall, but they do not drink of this 
water. They consider it better to die 
than to live, as is proved by an inscrip- 
tion in Cadmeian letters, which I myself 
read : 

HANGING ACCOMMODATION ROUND THE 
CORNER. 

There, then, the Clubmen hang them- 
selves, being vexed by the ladders and 
and the paint. Some of the survivors 
wear scarlet chitons, not made like the 
cloaks of the Priests, but otherwise, for 
they are by no means of the same tribe 
as the Priests, though they also worship 
the Tommoris, making him offerings of 
silver. Among them is a Priest who 
instructs them in the oaths which it is 
customary to employ when they lose 
themselves in the sands of the desert. 
Concerning this Priest, it is said that he 
is acquainted with the oaths of the Barba- 
rians. The Oracle, however, is in the 
30 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

chapel of the Tomtnoris, who interprets 
such questions as are asked by the na- 
tives. 

159. In respect to animals, dogs are 
an abomination to the Clubmen. The 
dogs, therefore, gathering in great num- 
bers outside the house of the Clubmen, 
can hardly be prevented from entering, 
behaving like the cats of Egypt on the 
occasion of a fire. The reason why the 
Clubmen abominate dogs is known to 
me, and the reason why they sprinkle 
cayenne pepper on the threshold of 
their dwelling, and to what god ; but 
it is not fit that I should mention these 
things in this place. He, however, who 
has been initiated into the mysteries of 
the Tommoris knows what I mean. 

160. The Women of the Saint An- 
dreans are somehow wont to be exces- 
sively beautiful beyond those in other 
cities. There is, however, a certain 
holy place where they are not permit- 

31 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

ted to walk. Concerning this they tell 
a sacred story. When lo came to Saint 
Andrews in the shape of a cow, she was 
grazing in the field. Now, one of the 
Clubmen was endeavoring to strike a 
ball into a small hole, as is the custom ; 
and having struck the cow, she instant- 
ly became a woman again, whereon the 
Clubman imprecated a curse upon any 
woman who entered the sacred place, 
averring that he had been put off his 
play by the circumstance which I have 
mentioned. This, then, became the 
law, even to this day. 

i6i. The largest tribe of those which 
I have not mentioned is called the Ka- 
dis. They are the attendants in the 
chapel of the Tommoris, and are great- 
ly respected by all the tribes, who make 
them daily offerings of silver. This 
they do by way of expiation. For, 
when any men would strike balls in the 
ground where women are not permitted 
32 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

to enter, the Kadis are obliged to ac- 
company them, and judge concerning 
their skill. This they do not willingly, 
but unwillingly, for the performances 
of the other tribes are an abomination 
to the Kadis, who are far more skillful 
than to rest. To appease them, then, 
the tribes make offerings of silver. 
The young Kadis are much more se- 
vere than the old, mocking openly at 
such as are not skilled in their art. The 
Kadis, moreover, do not wear red robes. 
162. To the north of the Saint An- 
dreans dwell the Dundaei, a strong 
tribe, but very ignorant and foolish. 
They are said to be entirely ignorant of 
the Greek speech, which the Saint An- 
dreans know — some, but not all. The 
Dundaei then they speak of as Barba- 
rians — ^reasonably, for they are indeed 
a very foolish people, living after the 
manner of the Sidonians. Some of 
them, however, having been instructed 

33 



Herodotus in Saint Andrews 

by the Saint Andreans, worship the 
Lynx. Horatios, the traveler, the son 
of Hutchi, having, as he says, visited 
Saint Andrews, declares that the L)mx 
is not a beast, but is the place where 
women are not allowed to enter. He 
also says in his Periplous^ that "the 
Links are a noble ruin," — most mani- 
festly confusing it with the remnants 
of ancient temples whereof I have 
spoken. On this matter, then, being at 
Saint Andrews, I myself consulted the 
Oracle of the Tommoris. He answered 
me in the hexameter meter as is usual : — 

** Stranger, if these be the words of the King, 
the descendant of Hutchi, 

Him from the shores of the South, and the 
Ho ! they denominate ** Westward,'* 

Answer him thus, No man, if the Links are 
indeed but a Ruin, 

Skelps them with iron as freely as thou — De- 
scendant of Hutchi." 

Having said this he burned a certain 

weed in a small vessel, inhaling the 

smoke,and cursing Horatios the Hutchid. 

34 



THE DEVIL'S ROUND 

A TALE OF FLEMISH GOLF 
BY MRS. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 

THE following story, translated by 
Mrs. Anstruther Thomson from 
Le Grand CholeuTyOi M. Charles Deulin 
{Contes du Roi Gambrinus)^ gives a 
great deal of information about French 
and Flemish golf. As any reader will 
see, this ancient game represents a 
stage of evolution between golf and 
hockey. The object is to strike a ball, 
in as few strokes as possible, to a given 
point ; but, after every three strokes, 
the opponent is allowed to d^choler^ or 
make one stroke back, or into a hazard. 
Here the element of hockey comes in. 
Get rid of this element, let each man hit 
his own ball, and, in place of striking to 

35 



The Devil's Round 



a point — say, the cemetery gate — let 
men " putt '' into holes, and the 
Flemish game becomes golf. It is of 
great antiquity. Ducange, in his Lexi- 
con of Low Latin ^ gives Choulla^ French 
^^<p?//^=" Globulus ligneus qui clava 
propellitur " — a wooden ball struck with 
a club. The head of the club was of 
iron (cf . crossare). This is borne out by 
a miniature in a missal of 1504, which 
represents peasants playing choule with 
clubs very like niblicks. Ducange 
quotes various MS. references of 1353, 
1357, and other dates older by a century 
than our earliest Scotch references to 
golf. At present the game is played in 
Belgium with a strangely-shaped loft- 
ing-iron and a ball of beechwood. M. 
Zola {Germinaly p. 310) represents his 
miners playing chole^ or choulle^ and 
says that they hit drives of more than 
500 yards. Experiments made at Wim- 
bledon with a Belgian club sent over by 
36 



The Devil's Round 



M, Charles Michel suggest that M. 
Zola has over-estimated the distance. 
But M. Zola and M. Deulin agree in 
making the players run after the ball. 
M. Henri Gaidoz adds that a similar 
game, called soule^ is played in various 
departments of France. He refers to 
Laisnel de la Salle. The name ckole 
may be connected with German Kolbe^ 
and golf may be the form which this 
word would assume in a Celtic lan- 
guage. All this makes golf very old ; 
but the question arises, Are the " holes " 
to which golfers play of Scotch or of 
Dutch origin? There are several old 
Flemish pictures of Golf ; do any of 
them show players in the act of " holing 
out ?" There is said to be such a pict- 
ure at Neuchatel. A. Lang. 

I 
Once upon a time there lived at the 
hamlet of Coq, near Cond6-sur-rEscaut, 
37 



The Devil's Round 



a wheelwright called Roger. He was a 
good fellow, tintiring both at his sport 
and at his toil, and as skilful in lofting 
a ball with a stroke of his club as in 
putting together a cartwheel. Every 
one knows that the game of golf con- 
sists in driving towards a given point a 
ball of cherrywood with a club which 
has for head a sort of little iron shoe 
without a heel. 

For my part, I do not know a more 
amusing game ; and when the country 
is almost cleared of the harvest, men, 
women, children, everybody, drives his 
ball as you please, and there is nothing 
cheerier than to see them filing on a 
Sunday like a flight of starlings across 
potato-fields and ploughed lands. 

II 

Well, one Tuesday, it was a Shrove 
Tuesday, the wheelwright of Coq laid 
aside his plane, and was slipping on his 
38 



The Devil's Round 



blouse to go and drink his can of beer 
at Conde, when two strangers came in, 
club in hand. 

" Would you put a new shaft to my 
club, master ?" said one of them. 

" What are you asking me, friends ? 
A day like this ! I would't give the 
smallest stroke of the chisel for a brick 
of gold. Besides, does any one play 
golf on Shrove Tuesday? You had 
much better go and see the mum- 
mers tumbling in the high street of 
Cond6." 

" We take no interest in the tumbling 
of mummers,*' replied the stranger. 
**We have challenged each other at 
golf, and we want to play it out. Come, 
you won't refuse to help us, you who 
are said to be one of the finest players 
of the country ?" 

" If it is a match, that is different," 
said Roger. 

He turned up his sleeves, hooked on 
39 



The Devil's Round 



his apron, and in the twinkling of an 
eye had adjusted the shaft. 

"How much do I owe you?" asked 
the unknown, drawing out his purse. 

** Nothing at all, faith ; it is not worth 
while/' 

The stranger insisted, but in vain. 

Ill 

" You are too honest, i' faith," said he 
to the wheelwright, **for me to be in 
your debt. I will grant you the fulfil- 
ment of three wishes." 

" Don't forget to wish what is best^^ 
added his companion. 

At these words the wheelwright 
smiled incredulously. 

" Are you not a couple of the loafers 
of Capelette ?" he asked, with a wink. 

The idlers of the crossways of Cape- 
lette were considered the wildest wags 
in Cond6. 

"Whom do you take us for?'* replied 
40 



The Devil's Round 



the unknown in a tone of severity, and 
with his club he touched an axle, made 
of iron, which instantly changed into 
one of pure silver. 

^*Who are you, then," cried Roger, 
"that your word is as good as ready 
money ?" 

" I am St. Peter, and my companion 
is St. Anthony, the patron of golfers/* 

" Take the trouble to walk in, gentle- 
men," said the wheelwright of Coq; 
and he ushered the two saints into the 
back parlor. He offered them chairs, 
and went to draw a jug of beer in the 
cellar. They clinked their glasses to- 
gether, and after each had lit his pipe — 

" Since you are so good, sir saints," 
said Roger, '' as to grant me the accom- 
plishment of three wishes, know that 
for a long while I have desired three 
things. I wish, first of all, that who- 
ever seats himself upon the elm-trunk 
at my door may not be able to rise with- 
41 



The Devil's Round 



out my permission. I like company, 
and it bores me to be always alone." 

St. Peter shook his head, and St. An- 
thony nudged his client. 

IV 

"When I play a game of cards, on 
Sunday evening, at the * Fighting 
Cock,' " continued the wheelwright, "it 
is no sooner nine o'clock than the 
garde-champetre comes to chuck us out. 
I desire that whoever shall have his 
feet on my leathern apron cannot be 
driven from the place where I shall 
have spread it." 

St. Peter shook his head, and St. An- 
thony, with a solemn air, repeated — 

" Don't forget what is besty 

"What is best^'' replied the wheel- 
wright of Coq nobly, " is to be the first 
golfer in the world. Every time I find 
my master at golf it turns my blood as 
black as the inside of the chimney. So 
42 



The Devil*s Round 



I want a club that will carry the ball as 
high as the belfry of Cond6, and will 
infallibly win me my match/* 

'' So be it," said St. Peter. 

** You would have done better/' said 
St. Anthony, " to have asked for your 
eternal salvation.'' 

'' Bah !" replied the other. " I have 
plenty of time to think of that ; I am 
not yet greasing my boots for the long 
journey." 

The two saints went out, and Roger 
followed them, curious to be present at 
such a rare game ; but suddenly, near 
the Chapel of St. Anthony, they disap- 
peared. 

The wheelwright then went to see 
the mummers tumbling in the high 
street of Conde. 

When he returned, towards midnight, 

he found at the corner of his door the 

desired club. To his great surprise it 

was only a bad little iron head attached 

43 



The Devil's Round 



to a wretched worn-out shaft. Never- 
theless he took the gift of St. Peter and 
put it carefully away. 

V 

Next morning the Cond^ens scattered 
in crowds over the country, to play golf, 
eat red herrings, and drink beer, so as 
to scatter the fumes of wine from their 
heads, and to revive after the fatigues 
of the Carnival. The wheelwright of 
Coq came, too, with his miserable club, 
and made such fine strokes that all the 
players left their games to see him 
play. The following Sunday he proved 
still more expert; little by little his 
fame spread through the land. From 
ten leagues round the most skilful play- 
ers hastened to come and be beaten, 
and it was then that he was named the 
Great Golfer. 

He passed the whole Sunday in golf- 
ing, and in the evening he rested him- 
44 



The Devil's Round 



self by playing a game of matrimony at 
the "Fighting Cock." He spread his 
apron tinder the feet of the players, and 
the devil himself could not have put 
them out of the tavern, much less the 
rural policeman. On Monday morning 
he stopped the pilgrims who were go- 
ing to worship at Notre Dame de Bon 
Secours ; he induced them to rest them- 
selves upon his causeiise^ and did not let 
them go before he had confessed them 
well. 

In short, he led the most agreeable 
life that a good Fleming can imagine, 
and only regretted one thing — namely, 
that he had not wished it might last for 
ever. 

VI 

Well, it happened one day that the 
strongest player of Mons, who was 
called Paternostre, was found dead on 
the edge of a bunker. His head was 

45 



The Devil's Round 



broken, and near him was his niblick, 
red with blood. 

They could not tell who had done his 
business, and as Paternostre often said 
that at golf he neither feared man 
nor devil, it occurred to them that he 
had challenged Mynheer van Belzebuth, 
and that as a punishment for this he 
had knocked him on the head. Myn- 
heer van Belzebuth is, as every one 
knows, the greatest gamester that there 
is upon or under the earth, but the 
game he particularly affects is golf. 
When he goes his round in Flanders 
one always meets him, club in hand, 
like a true Fleming. 

The wheelwright of Coq was very 
fond of Paternostre, who, next to him- 
self, was the best golfer in the country. 
He went to his funeral with some golf- 
ers from the hamlets of Coq, La Ci- 
gogne, and La Queue de TAyache. 

On returning from the cemetery they 
46 



The Devil's Round 



went to the tavern to drink, as they say, 
to the memory of the dead,* and there 
they lost themselves in talk about the 
noble game of golf. When they sepa- 
rated, in the dusk of evening — 

"A good journey to you," said the 
Belgian players, " and may St. Anthony, 
the patron of golfers, preserve you from 
meeting the devil on the way !** 

" What do I care for the devil ?'* re- 
plied Roger. " If he challenged me I 
should soon beat him !'' 

The companions trotted from tavern 
to tavern without misadventure ; but 
the wolf-bell had long tolled for retiring 
in the belfry of Cond6 when they re- 
turned each one to his own den. 

VII 

As he was putting the key into the 
lock the wheelwright thought he heard 
a shout of mocking laughter. He 
* Boire la cervelle du mort. 

47 



The Devil's Round 



turned, and saw in the darkness a man 
six feet high, who again burst out 
laughing. 

"What are you laughing at ?" said he 
crossly. 

" At what ? Why, at the aplomb with 
which you boasted a little while ago 
that you would dare measure yourself 
against the devil." 

" Why not, if he challenged me ?*' 

"Very well, my master, bring your 
clubs. I challenge you !" said Myn- 
heer van Belzebuth, for it was himself. 
Roger recognized him by a certain 
odor of sulphur that always hangs about 
his majesty. 

" What shall the stake be T he asked 
resolutely. 

" Your soul r 

" Against what ?" 

" Whatever you please." 

The wheelwright reflected. 

" What have you there in your sack ?" 
48 



The Devil's Round 



*' My spoils of the week/' 

"Is the soul of Paternostre among 
them r 

" To be sure ! and those of five other 
golfers ; dead, like him, without confes- 
sion." 

" I play you my soul against that of 
Paternostre." 

" Done !" 

VIII 

The two adversaries repaired to the 
adjoining field and chose for their goal 
the door of the cemetery of Conde.* 
Belz6buth teed a ball on a frozen heap, 
after which he said, according to cus- 
tom — 

" From here, as you lie, in how many 
turns of three strokes will you run in ?" 

" In two," replied the great golfer. 

And his adversary was not a little 
surprised, for from there to the ceme- 
tery was nearly a quarter of a league. 
* They play to points, not holes. 
49 



The Devil's Round 



" But how shall we see the ball ?" con- 
tinued the wheelwright. 

"True !'* said Belz6buth. 

He touched the ball with his club, 
and it shone suddenly in the dark like 
an immense glow-worm. 

" Fore !" cried Roger. 

He hit the ball with the head of his 
club, and it rose to the sky like a star 
going to rejoin its sisters. In three 
strokes it crossed three-quarters of the 
distance. 

"That is good!'' said Belzebuth, 
whose astonishment redoubled. "My 
turn to play now !'' * 

With one stroke of the club he drove 
the ball over the roofs of Coq nearly to 
Maison Blanche, half a league away. 
The blow was so violent that the iron 
struck fire against a pebble. 

" Good St. Anthony ! I am lost, unless 

* After each three strokes the opponent has 
one hit back, or into a hazard. 

SO 



The Devil's Round 



you come to my aid/* murmured the 
wheelwright of Coq. 

He struck tremblingly; but though 
his arm was uncertain, the club seemed 
to have acquired a new vigor. At the 
second stroke the ball went as if of 
itself and hit the door of the cemetery. 

" By the horns of my grandfather !'* 
cried Belz6buth, it shall not be said that 
I have been beaten by a son of that fool 
Adam. Give me my revenge.** 

" What shall we play for ?** 

"Your soul and that of Paternostr« 
against the souls of two golfers.** 

IX 
The devil played up, " pressing ** furi- 
ously ; his club blazed at each stroke 
with showers of sparks. The ball flew 
from Cond6 to Bon Secours, to Pern- 
welz, to Leuze. Once it spun away to 
Toumai, six leagues from there. 
It left behind a luminous tail like a 
SI 



The Devil's Round 



comet, and the two golfers followed, so 
to speak, on its track. Roger was never 
able to understand how he ran, or rather 
flew, so fast, and without fatigue. 

In short, he did not lose a single 
game, and won the souls of the six de- 
funct golfers. Belz6buth rolled his eyes 
like an angry tom-cat. 

"Shall we go on?" said the wheel- 
wright of Coq. 

" No," replied the other ; " they ex- 
pect me at the Witches* Sabbath on the 
hill of Copiemont. 

"That brigand," said he aside, "is ca- 
pable of filching all my game." 

And he vanished. 

Returned home, the Great Golfer shut 
up his souls in a sack and went to bed, 
enchanted to have beaten Mynheer van 
Belz6buth. 

X 

Two years after, the wheelwright of 
Coq received a visit which he little ex- 
52 



The Devil's Round 



pected. An old man, tall, thin, and 
yellow, came into the workshop carry- 
ing a scythe on his shoulder. 

" Are you bringing me your scythe to 
haft anew, master?*' 

"No, faith, my scythe is never un- 
hafted." 

'* Then how can I serve you ?" 

" By following me : your hour is 
come/' 

"The devil!'* said the great golfer, 
" could you not wait a little till I have 
finished this wheel ?" 

" Be it so ! I have done hard work 
to-day, and I have well earned a smoke." 

" In that case, master, sit down there 
on the causeuse, I have at your service 
some famous tobacco at seven petards 
the pound." 

" That's good, faith ; make haste." 

And Death lit his pipe and seated 
himself at the door on the elm trunk. 

Laughing in his sleeve, the wheel - 
53 



The Devil's Round 



wright of Coq returned to his work. 
At the end of a quarter of an hour 
Death called to him — 

*'Ho! faith, will you soon have fin- 
ished ?" 

The wheelwright turned a deaf ear 
and went on planing, singing — 

** Attendez-moi sur Torme ; 
Vous m'attendrez longtemps," 

**I don't think he hears me," said 
Death. '* Ho ! friend, are you ready ?" 

** Va-t-en voir s'ils viennent, Jean, 
Va-t-en voir s'ils viennent,'* 
replied the singer. 

" Would the brute laugh at me ?'* said 
Death to himself. 
And he tried to rise. 
To his great surprise he could not de- 
tach himself from the causeuse. He 
then understood he was the sport of a 
superior power. 

**Let me see," he said to Roger. 
" What will you take to let me go ? Do 
54 



The Devil's Round 



you wish me to prolong your life ten 

years ?" 

*'J*ai de bon tabac dans ma tabatiere," 

sang the great golfer. 

** Will you take twenty years ?" 

" II pleut, il pleut, berg^re ; 
Rentre tes blancs moutons." 

" Will you take fifty, wheelwright ? — 

may the devil admire you !" 

The wheelwright of Coq intoned — 

** Bon voyage, cher Dumollet, 
A Saint-Malo debarquez sans naufrage." 

In the meanwhile the clock of Cond6 
had just struck four, and the boys were 
coming out of school. The sight of this 
great dry heron of a creature who 
struggled on the causeuse, like a devil in 
a holy- water pot, surprised and soon de- 
lighted them. 

Never suspecting that when seated 
at the door of the old, Death watches 
the young, they thought it funny to put 
out their tongues at him, singing in 
chorus : — 



55 



The Devil's Round 



** Bon voyage, cher Dumollet, 
A Saint-Malo debarquez sans naufrage.'* 

"Will you take a hundred years?" 
yelled Death. 

"Hein? How? What? Were you 
not speaking of an extension of a hun- 
dred years ? I accept v^ith all my heart, 
master ; but let us understand : I am 
not such a fool as to ask for the length- 
ening of my old age. 

" Then what do you want ?" 

" From old age I only ask the experi- 
ence which it gives by degrees. " Si 
jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait !'* 
says the proverb. I wish to preserve 
for a hundred years the strength of a 
young man, and to acquire the experi- 
ence of an old one.'* 

" So be it," said Death ; " I shall re- 
turn this day a hundred years." 

** Bon voyage, cher DumoUet, 
A Saint-Malo debarquez sans naufrage," 



56 



The Devil's Round 



XI 

The great golfer began a new life. 
At first he enjoyed perfect happiness, 
which was increased by the certainty of 
its not ending for a hundred years. 
Thanks to his experience, he so well 
understood the management of his af- 
fairs that he could leave his mallet and 
shut up shop.* 

He experienced, nevertheless, an an- 
noyance he had not foreseen. His won- 
derful skill at golf ended by frighten- 
ing the players whom he had at first 
delighted, and was the cause of his 
never finding any one who would play 
against him. 

He therefore quitted the canton and 
set out on his travels over French Flan- 
ders, Belgium, and all the greens where 
the noble game is held in honor. At 
the end of twenty years he returned to 
* Vivre a porte close. 

-.,.,.<, 57 



The Devil's Round 



Coq to be admired by a new generation 
of golfers, after which he departed to 
return twenty years later. 

Alas ! in spite of its apparent charm, 
this existence before long became a 
burden to him. Besides that, it bored 
him to win on every occasion ; he was 
tired of passing like the Wandering Jew 
through generations, and of seeing the 
sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons 
of his friends grow old and die out. He 
was constantly reduced to making new 
friendships which were undone by the 
age or death of his fellows ; all changed 
around him, he only did not change. 

He grew impatient of this eternal 
youthfulness, which condemned him to 
taste the same pleasures forever, and he 
sometimes longed to know the calmer 
joys of old age. One day he caught 
himself at his looking-glass, examining 
whether his hair had not begun to grow 
white ; nothing seemed so beautiful to 
58 



The Devil's Round 



him now as the snow on the forehead 
of the old. 

XII 

In addition to this, experience soon 
made him so wise that he was no longer 
amused at anything. If sometimes in 
the tavern he had a fancy for making 
use of his apron to pass the night at 
cards: '^What is the good of this ex- 
cess ?*' whispered experience ; " it is not 
sufficient to be unable to shorten one's 
days, one must also avoid making one's- 
self ill." 

He reached the point of refusing him- 
self the pleasure of drinking his pint 
and smoking his pipe. Why, indeed, 
plunge into dissipations which enervate 
the body and dull the brain ? 

The wretch went further^ and gave up 

golf ! Experience convinced him that 

the game is a dangerous one, which 

overheats one and is eminently adapted 

59 



The Devil's Round 



to produce colds, catarrhs, rheumatism, 
and inflammation of the lungs. 

Besides, what is the use, and what 
great glory is it to be reputed the first 
golfer in the world ? 

Of what use is glory itself ? A vain 
hope, vain as the smoke of a pipe. 

When experience had thus bereft him 
one by one of his delusions, the un- 
happy golfer became mortally weary. 
He saw that he had deceived himself, 
that delusion has its price, and that the 
greatest charm of youth is perhaps its 
inexperience. 

He thus arrived at the term agreed 
on in the contract, and as he had not 
had a paradise here below, he sought 
through his hardly-acquired wisdom a 
clever way of conquering one above. 

xni 

Death found him at Coq at work in 
his shop. Experience had at least 
60 



The Devil's Round 



taught him that work is the most last- 
ing of pleasures. 

" Are you ready ?" said Death. 

*aam." 

He took his club, put a score of balls 
in his pocket, threw his sack over his 
shoulder, and buckled his gaiters with- 
out taking off his apron. 

" What do you want your club for ?" 

"Why, to golf in paradise with my 
patron St. Anthony. 

"Do you fancy, then, that I am going 
to conduct you to paradise ?" 

" You must, as I have half a dozen 
souls to carry there that I once saved 
from the clutches of Belzebuth." 

"Better have saved your own. En 
route ^ cher Dumollet !'' 

The great golfer saw that the old 
reaper bore him a grudge, and that he 
was going to conduct him to the para- 
dise of the lost.* 

* Noires glaives, 
61 



The Devil's Round 



Indeed, a quarter of an hour later the 
two travelers knocked at the gate of 
hell. 

"Toe, toe!" 

" Who is there ?*' 

"The wheelwright of Coq," said the 
great golfer. 

" Don't open the door," cried Belze- 
buth ; " that rascal wins at every turn ; 
he is capable of depopulating my em- 
pire." 

Roger laughed in his sleeve. 

" Oh ! you are not saved," said Death. 
" I am going to take you where you 
won't be cold either." 

Quicker than a beggar would have 
emptied a poor's box they were in pur- 
gatory. 

"Toe, toe!" 

" Who is there ?" 

" The wheelwright of Coq," said the 
great golfer. 

" But he is in a state of mortal sin," 
62 



The Devil's Round 



cried the angel on duty. "Take him 
away from here — he can't come in/' 

" I cannot, all the same, let him linger 
between heaven and earth," said Death; 
" I shall shunt him back to Coq." 

" Where they will take me for a ghost. 
Thank you ! is there not still paradise ?" 

XIV 

They were there at the end of a short 
hour. 

'* Toe, toe V* 

"Who is there?" 

" The wheelwright of Coq," said the 
great golfer. 

"Ah! my lad," said St. Peter half 
opening the door, " I am really grieved. 
St. Anthony told you long ago you had 
better ask for the salvation of your 
soul." 

"That is true, St. Peter," replied 
Roger with a sheepish air. " And how 
is he, that blessed St. Anthony ? Could 
63 



The Devil's Round 



I not come in for one moment to re- 
turn the visit he once paid me ? 

"Why, here he comes," said St. Peter,, 
throwing the door wide open. 

In the twinkling of an eye the sly 
golfer had flung himself into paradise, 
unhooked his apron, let it fall to the 
ground, and seated himself down on it. 

''Good morning, St. Anthony," said 
he with a fine salute. " You see I had 
plenty of time to think of paradise, for 
here we are !" 

''What! You here!" cried St. An- 
thony. 

"Yes, I and my company," replied 
Roger, opening his sack and scattering 
on the carpet the souls of six golfers. 

" Will you have the goodness to pack 
right off, all of you ?" 

" Impossible !" said the great golfer, 
showing his apron. 

"The rogue has made game of us," 
said St. Anthony. " Come, St. Peter, in 
64 



The Devil's Round 



memory of our game of golf, let him 
in with his souls. Besides, he has had 
his purgatory on earth/* 

"It is not a very good precedent," 
murmured St. Peter. 

" Bah !'* replied Roger, " if we have a 
few good golfers in paradise, where is 
the harm ?" 

XV 

Thus, after having lived long, golfed 
much, and drunk many cans of beer, 
the wheelwright of Coq called the Great 
Golfer was admitted to paradise ; but I 
advise no one to copy him, for it is 
not quite the right way to go, and St. 
Peter might not always be so compli- 
ant, though great allowances must be 
made for golfers. 



65 



DR. JOHNSON ON THE LINKS 

(from an AUCHINLECK MS.) 
BY ANDREW LANG 

ON the morning after our arrival in 
St. Andrews Dr. Johnson ex- 
pressed a desire to see the ruins of 
ecclesiastical antiquity for which this 
place is famous, or, I should say, infa- 
mous. Yielding to a roguish tempta- 
tion of which I am ashamed, and which 
even now astonishes me, I determined 
to practice on the credulity of my ven- 
erated friend. I therefore, under pre- 
tence of leading Dr. Johnson to the 
ruins, carried him to that part of the 
vicinity which is called the Links. It 
is an undulating stretch of grassy land, 
varied by certain small elevations, 
which I assured Dr. Johnson covered 
all the ecclesiastical ruins that time and 
the licence of the rabble had spared. 
66 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

He was much moved, and refused to 
be covered, as on consecrated ground, 
while he walked along the Links, a 
course of some two miles. Often he 
would pause, and I heard him mutter 
perierunt etiant ruince. I ventured to 
ask him his opinion of John Knox, 
when he replied, in a sensible agitation, 
** Sir, he was worthy to be the oppro- 
brious leader of your opprobrious peo- 
ple.'* I was hardly recovered from 
this blow at my nation, when Dr. John- 
son's wig was suddenly and violently 
removed from his head, and carried to 
a certain distance. We were unable to 
account for this circumstance, and Dr. 
Johnson was just about stooping to re- 
gain his property, when a rough fellow, 
armed with a few clubs, of which some 
had threatening heads of iron, came up 
hastily,'* saying, "Hoot awa'! ye maun- 
na stir the hazard." It appears that his 
golf-ball, struck by him from a distance, 
67 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

had displaced Dr. Johnson's wig, and 
was still reposing- in his folds. Before 
I could interfere the fellow had dealt 
a violent stroke at the perruqne, whence 
the ball, soaring in an airy curve, 
alighted at a considerable distance. I 
have seldom seen my venerable friend 
more moved than by this unexpected 
assault upon his dignity. "Sir/' said 
he to the fellow, ^^you have taken an 
unwarranted liberty with one who 
neither provokes nor pardons insult." 
At the same moment he hastily disem- 
barrassed himself of his coat, and ap- 
peared in shirt-sleeves, which reminded 
me of his avowed lack of partiality for 
clean linen. Assuming an attitude of 
self-defence, he planted one blow on his 
adversary's nose, and another in his ab- 
domen, with such impetuosity and sci- 
ence that the rascal fell, and bellowed 
for mercy. This Dr. Johnson was 
pleased to grant, after breaking all his 
68 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

weapons. He then resumed his coat, 
and, with an air of good-humored tri- 
umph, he remarked, " It is long, sir, since 
I knocked a man down, and I feel my- 
self the better for the exercise.'* 

At this moment we came within 
view of the Cathedral towers, and I in- 
stantly felt considerable apprehension 
lest, on discovering my trick, he might 
bestow on me the same correction as he 
had just administered to the golfer. I 
therefore hastily took the opportunity 
to call his attention to the towers, re- 
marking that they were the remains of 
certain small chapels, which had suf- 
fered less from the frenzy of the rabble 
than the Cathedral, on whose site, as I 
told him, we were now walking. Thus 
I endeavored to give him a higher, and 
possibly an exaggerated, idea of the an- 
cient resources and ecclesiastical mag- 
nificence of my country. 

" Sir/' he said, " we will examine later 

69 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

the contemptible relics which the idiotic 
fury of your ancestors has spared ; 
meantime I must have a Roll. It is a 
long time, sir, since I had a Roll/' He 
then, to my alarm, ascended the highest 
of certain knolls or hummocks, laid 
himself down at full length, and per- 
mitted himself to revolve slowly over 
and over till he reached the level 
ground. He was now determined to 
exercise himself at the game of Golf, 
which I explained to him as the Scotch 
form of cricket. Having purchased a 
ball and club, he threw himself into the 
correct attitude, as near as he could imi- 
tate it, and delivered a blow with prodi- 
gious force. Chancing to strike at the 
same time both the ball and the ground, 
the head of his club flew off to an im- 
mense distance. He was pleased with 
this instance of his prowess, but de- 
clined, on the score of expense, to at- 
tempt another experiment. "Sir," he 
70 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

said, " if Goldsmith were here, he would 
try to persuade us that he could urge a 
sphere to a greater distance and eleva- 
tion than yonder gentleman who has 
just hit over that remote sand-pit. 
Knowing his desire for information, I 
told him that, in Scotch, a sand-pit is 
called a Bunker. **Sir," said he, "I 
wonder out of what colluvies of barbar- 
ism your people selected the jargon 
wh/ch you are pleased to call a language. 
Sir, you have battened on the broken 
melts of human speech, and have car- 
ried away the bones. A sand-pit, sir, is 
a sand-pit." 

I was somewhat deadened by this un- 
looked-for reception of an innocent re- 
mark. Meanwhile he had fallen into an 
abstracted fit, from which I attempted 
to rouse him, by asking him what he 
would do if landed on a desert island, 
with no company but a Cannibal. 

"Sir," he said, "I should consider 

71 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

myself more fortunately situated than 
when landed on an island, equally un- 
cultivated, with no companion but an 
inquisitive Scotchman. From a Canni- 
bal, sir, I could learn much. From you 
I can neither learn anything, nor have 
I any confidence in my power to com- 
municate to you the elements of civil- 
ized behavior." 

He burst on this into a hearty fit of 
laughter, which was concluded by a golf- 
ball, which suddenly flew, from an incre- 
dible distance, into his mouth, and pro- 
duced an alarming fit of coughing. When 
he had recovered from this paroxysm he 
appeared somewhat disinclined for fur- 
ther conversation, and, on arriving at our 
inn, he said, "Sir, do not let us meet again 
till dinner. Sir, you have brought me 
to a strange place of singular manners. 
I did not believe, sir, that in his Majes- 
ty's dominions there was any district so 
barbarous, and so perilous to travelers." 
72 



Dr. Johnson on the Links 

Finding him in this mood, and ob- 
serving that he grasped his staff in a 
menacing manner, I withdrew to a 
neighboring tavern. 



73 



CONCERNING THE CADDIES OF 
ST. ANDREWS 

BY R. WHYTE GIBSON 

IT is a truism to remark that every 
gentleman has a peculiar function 
to perform in the social community, 
and the Caddie has his. The Caddies 
are a privileged class, and they make 
the most of their privileges. This is 
shown by free criticism and gratuitous 
advice on all occasions. They are ever 
ready to impart the fruits of their expe- 
rience. The Caddies have stood at For- 
gan's shop and the Golf Hotel (the for- 
mer has been revolutionized in our 
time ; the latter has been lately embel- 
lished by a work of art — tempera mu- 
fantur^ etc.) ; they have placed them- 
selves there, till these corners are now 
their own property, consecrated by the 
74 



The Caddies of St. Andrews 

expectoration of tobacco- juice and the 
fumes of three-penny cut, discussing 
the affairs of the empire, or the local 
politics of the microcosm. There they 
stand, blue with the " cauld wund '* of 
the bleak midwinter, or bronzed like 
Arabs with the " gey Strang het '' of the 
summer-time. Their occupation would 
be pleasant were it not perchance pre- 
carious. Their fortune varies. But 
they are optimistic, and if business is 
dull and the hours go slowly by, a ^* bit 
nippie '' over the way refreshes the in- 
ner man. They are pertinacious in 
offering their services. When a man 
arrives at the Club for his first round, 
he is at once encompassed by these 
Bulls of Bashan, and bamboozled with 
their unintelligible jargon of **Chan- 
cees, sir, chancees." Peace at any price 
is the order of the day. We have hinted 
that are not reserved. We have heard 
an enthusiast, recently raised to the 

75 



The Caddies of St. Andrews 

bench, addressed as follows on missing 
a shot — ** Sur, you're no playin' the day 
ava. Hand up your shouthers ; dinna 
sclaff ! '* and the recipient of this was 
not a novice or tyro by any means. 
We have heard an Oxonian informed 
in no mild language that "gouf isna 
crecket : ye needna swing your cloob 
that wey !'' When your ball falls into 
the burn, the embryo Caddie is good 
enough to try to find it for you by 
stamping it into the mud ; the old Cad- 
die stoically howks for stray "baas" 
among the whins. We believe the em- 
ployment in both cases is lucrative. 
Some of the youths of the unique city 
recruit their strength by caddying for 
a few years ; they then devote their 
latent talents to '*the trades." The 
Caddie is no respecter of persons ; once 
roused, his volubility is prodigious, his 
independence striking. We know sev- 
eral who have been Caddies all their 
76 



The Caddies of St. Andrews 

lives, and who know every inch of the 
course, among whom, old " Skipper," art 
thou one ! The Caddie considers he is 
at all times entitled to "auld baas'* 
("See an auld baa fae ye**), while a 
pair of boots, or other articles of appa- 
rel, are never refused. If not alto- 
gether respectful, he tries to look re- 
spectable, and on the whole is a self- 
important but worthy individual. 



77 



CLASSICS FOR THE CLUBMEN 

BY ANDREW LANG 

EccE, senex Andreanus 

Rubra veste cambricat, 
In arenis ut paganns 
Fodit, frequens et profanus, 

Mala verba vocitat ! 
Dat Morrisins consilia, 
"Carpearenammultam;''* millia 
Mala verba, prava, vilia, 
Senex, en, vociferat ! 

Non me decet admonere, 
Magis clam peccata flere 
Quam superbia gaudere 

Conscientia admonet ! 
In Sepulchro Walkingshavi 
Frustra fodiens juravi, 

Nunc scelestum poenitet. 

* •• Tak* plenty o* sand/' 
78 



THE HOME OF GOLF 

BY R. BARCLAY 

IN a book about Golf no apology is 
required for introducing some re- 
marks upon St. Andrews. Golf without 
St. Andrews would be almost as intoler- 
able as St. Andrews without Golf. For 
here are the head-quarters of the ** royal, 
ancient, irritating sport." Here Tom 
Morris holds his court, his courtiers, the 
clubmen and the caddies ; his throne, 
the evergreen links ; and his sceptre, a 
venerable putter. Here the children 
make their entrance into the world, not 
with silver spoons in their mouths, but 
with diminutive golf -clubs in their hands. 
Here the Champion is as much a hero 
as the greatest general who ever re- 
turned in triumph from the wars. 
Here, in short, is an asylum for golfing 
79 



The Home of Golf 



maniacs and the happy hunting-ground 
of the duffer, who, armed with a rusty 
cleek, sallies forth to mutilate the harm- 
less turf. 

When a man becomes infected with 
the golfing disease, his first desire of 
course is to strike the ball with occa- 
sional success. Continually and consist- 
ently to miss the globe may be 
enervating, but it cannot be called an 
encouraging pastime. Then follow lof- 
tier aims and aspirations. He per- 
severes until in a thrice-happy hour 
he "gets below the hundred." But if 
he be a Foreigner — in the golfing sense 
— ^his cup of joy is not yet full. His 
mind turns towards St. Andrews, and 
thither he bends his willing steps, or, in 
more prosaic form, sets out by train. 

He will be struck at once by the 

unique appearance of the city. It 

stands in an atmosphere of antiquity. 

When and by whom it was actually 

80 



The Home of Golf 



formed cannot with certainty be stated, 
The popular custom was to lay the 
blame upon St. Regains — as the poet 
has testified : — 

** 'Tis thought when St. Regulus landed 

The bones of St. Andrew he bare 
To a cave in a cliff that commanded 

A prospect with capital air : 
* The seaweed is capital fare 

For a healthy ascetic/ cried he : 
And he settled contentedly where 

The College now stands by the sea." * 

All this is very apocryphal, but we have 
every reason to date its origin from the 
year 736 a.d. Since then no place in 
Scotland has seen fiercer conflicts and 
more sudden catastrophes, and with no 
exaggeration it has been said that the 
history of St. Andrews is the history of 
Scotland. 

In its modem aspect St. Andrews is 

*Mr. Andrew hang— *'Ba/ lade of St, An- 
drews University y 

81 



The Home of Golf 



peculiarly placed. Close upon seven 
thousand persons claim to be inhabit- 
ants. If we except the fishermen — of 
whom there is a large colony — the 
tradespeople, and the University, almost 
every other body is by profession or 
practice to be designated a golfer. Of 
course the other classes aforementioned 
are largely represented on the links 
when leisure permits them, for it is in 
truth a"City of Golf.'' There are no 
public works, hence there is little or 
no smoke : and except when a misguided 
Town Council cements the streets with 
coal dust the pavement is as white as 
Scottish pavement may be. 

The summer visitor finds it difficult to 
believe that St. Andrews is a University 
city. The college buildings are there, it 
is true, but no signs of life are visible. 
In winter, however, it is far otherwise. 
From October to April the streets are 
enlivened by the red gowns of the un- 
82 



The Home of Golf 



dergradnates, and arrangements are 
now being made for the institution of 
a summer session. The educational 
record of the city is a noble one, and 
the University is still doing successful, 
and often brilliant, work. 

But this is not Golf. Let us return 
to the links — with which none can com- 
pare. Here, there, and everywhere 
Golf is spreading : almost every day we 
hear of Tom Morris opening a new 
green and declaring it (with a faithless 
regularity) to be "the finest green in 
the country " — though he will occasion- 
ally modify the statement to this extent, 
that it is ** second only to St. Andrews." 
Whether these remarks are ever made 
by the cautious old custodian is doubt- 
ful : local enthusiasm is prone to ex- 
aggerate. There are links which are 
sporting, and links which are long : 
links which have good putting greens, 
and links which have none at all : links 
83 



The Home of Golf 



which have no hazards, and links which 
are all hazard : but place any of them be- 
side St. Andrews, and O the difference ! 
Very inferior golf may secure a good 
score at Carnoustie, or Leven, or Mus- 
selburgh, or GuUane, or Machrihanish, 
to mention no more, but anything below 
ninety on St. Andrews means that fooz- 
ling has been conspicuous by its absence. 
The driving must be straight, the iron 
play decided and exact, and mistakes 
on the putting green cannot be as- 
cribed to the turf, which, in summer at 
least, is truer than most billiard tc^bles. 
The bunkers are for the most part 
traps only for missed shots, and, con- 
sidering the tremendous amount of 
traffic, bad lies are proverbially absent. 
In short, St. Andrews is the home 
and nursery of Golf. Here it is that 
we find the game as it should be played, 
here alone, if we except North Berwick: 
for the palmy days of Musselburgh are 
84 



The Home of Golf 



past, and Prestwick is too select to be 
considered. For there is Golf as it 
should not be played — as it cannot be 
played. Farther down the Fife coast, 
to seek no more distant ground, there 
is a links more than usually affected in 
the summer months by visitors and 
vagabonds, where, by the natives at 
least, style is unknown and turf seldom 
replaced. There are perhaps some half- 
dozen players of more than average 
skill who are duly worshipped by the 
lesser lights of the links : and there are 
probably not more than a dozen, or, at 
most, a score, who have seen a profes- 
sional match or amateur play of the 
first class. Their style, if it may be 
called so, is universally and utterly ab- 
ject : their clubs are generally more or 
less curious varieties of the "Bulger" 
arrangement : the half-swing reigns su- 
preme : and there is no resident profes- 
sional. The green-keeper, an excellent 

8s 



The Home of Golf 



man and a pretty wit, was enlisted (O 
foolish economy !) from the service of 
the plough. He makes a new putting* 
green with infinite labor, and leaves the 
storms and heat of the heavens to con- 
vert it into a particularly uninviting 
bunker. He places the teeing-grounds 
among whins, and gloats over those 
who find it most profitable to drive 
therefrom with their irons. The native 
golfers, having no one of eminence to 
imitate, do what seems right in their 
own eyes, and what, in the eyes of 
every other body, is patently wrong, 
their chief amusement on many occa- 
sions being to drive blindly and fiercely 
into some unoffending foursome, cry- 
ing "Fore'' with unnecessary vehe- 
mence as the hindmost of the players 
is being conveyed to the nearest sur- 
geon's. All of which is golfing ac- 
cording to , but the name of the 

town must not be mentioned. The 
86 



The Home of Golf 



inhabitants are many of them strong 
men. 

In St. Andrews are the hopes of the 
golfer fixed. The very air seems to be 
impregnated with the spirit of the 
game. At the tee with the brave old 
towers behind, the rolling waters of the 
Bay to the right, and in front the 
mounds, and hillocks, and levels of the 
links, one feels that he has reached the 
end of his pilgrimage to the Shrine of 
Golf. A new glamor is thrown about 
the game: the Golfer's "spirit leaps 
within him to be gone before him 
then :'' the Swilcan may receive his sec- 
ond or third shot in its liquid shallows : 
he may foozle on the green under the 
critical eye of a by-standing profes- 
sional, but " his heart's his own, his will 
is free.'' And standing at the end hole 
with his round half accomplished, he 
can survey the towers of the ruined 
Cathedral, and the ragged masonry of 
87 



The Home of Golf 



the Castle, and the grey old city itself 
with the feelings of one who has found 
life worth living and Golf a game for 
men. 



88 



A VISIT TO GOFFTOON 

BY A. C. MORRISON 

IT was evening : on rushed the train 
with almost lightning rapidity. I 
reclined comfortably in a third-class 
compartment, and thought with pleas- 
ure of the various joys that were in 
store for me. By my side lay an um- 
brella and a sandwich ; but my pocket 
did not contain the proverbial return 
ticket ; for it was only at five o'clock on 
an August evening that I had left the 
office of Messrs. Smith, Brown, Jones, 
and Company, with permission to ab- 
sent myself for a fortnight. In the 
first excitement attending the great oc- 
casion, I seized my traveling bag, that 
had been carefully packed in the morn- 
ing, bolted to a station, and took the 
first train for anywhere. There was 
89 



x\. Visit to Gofftoon 



only one other passenger in the com- 
partment ; but my conversational ef- 
forts were most distinctly discouraged. 
This gentleman was arrayed in tweeds 
of loud pattern, the design of which 
I was quite unable to comprehend. I 
quailed beneath his examining gaze, 
but at length he closed his eyes. Then, 
venturing to investigate, I discovered 
with astonishment that the design of 
the tweeds consisted of curiously 
wrought cleeks and irons, with golf- 
balls judiciously interspersed. On the 
seat there lay a small valise of so re- 
markable construction that it cannot be 
described, but it bore the significant, la- 
bel, '' Gofftoon." 

For three weary hours the engine 
puffed and whistled ; but at length there 
was a slackening of speed which told 
that the terminus was at hand. My 
companion gathered up his belongings, 
among which was a set of golf-clubs 
90 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



glanced ferociously at me, and turned 
to open the door. Undismayed I fol- 
lowed, and stepped on to a platform 
which was now almost completely dark. 
A porter moved towards me, but after 
examining me for a moment, he seemed 
to miss something, for he turned and 
walked quickly in the opposite direc- 
tion. 

Above the entrance to the station 
there was a lamp that shone upon these 
curious lines, which I was then at a loss 
to understand — 

** An entrance into Gofftoon let no one dare to 
seek, 
Unless he bear at very least a driver and a 
cleek." 

"Rather a poor joke," I mentally re- 
marked, but as the wind had begun to 
blow, and rain had begun to fall, I hur- 
ried 0&. in the direction of the town. 
Presently some one addressed me. 
"The greens '11 be stiff, an' you'll need 
91 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



an * eclipse * the morn," was all he said 
as he passed once more into the dark- 
ness. I shouted after him a request to 
direct me to an hotel. For a moment I 
got no reply, but at last he announced 
that it would "tak' a meenit or twa, and 
he hadna time, but," continued the way- 
farer, "ye micht try the first ane ye 
come to." 

With this gratifying intelligence I 
proceeded, until I came to a brilliantly 
illuminated building which bore the 
sign, "Player's First-Class Hotel." I 
rang the bell. Presently a waiter ap- 
peared, who in answer to my request 
for accommodation immediately said — 

" Fm afraid we can't put you up, sir ; 
what's your round ?" 

Thinking to humor this golfing ma- 
niac, I told him I could do in 102. 

"Won't do, sir," said the waiter, and 
the door was immediately slammed in 
my face. 

92 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



Despite this reverse, I was still happy 
enough to sympathise with the land- 
lord in having such an idiot in his serv- 
ice ; but my eyes had yet to be opened. 
Without delay I continued my search, 
and was soon standing in the entrance 
hall of another hotel. Again, to my 
complete bewilderment, the question of 
the monomanic waiter was repeated ; 
and I repeated my answer. To my joy 
it was this time received with satis- 
faction. I was once more doomed to 
disappoinment, for I had yet an impor- 
tant question to answer. 

** Use an iron or wooden putter, sir ?" 
queried the indefatigable boots. 

"Confound you!" I retorted angrily, 
" what does that matter to you ? I only 
want a bed ; I use the wooden putter 
mostly." 

" Very sorry we can't put you up, sir, 
but this is the * Cleek,' and Mr. Iron is 
very strict in his orders." 
93 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



Wearied with my wanderings, I at 
length succeeded in satisfying the re- 
quirements of the ''Bulger Inn." I 
reached these quarters in time to share 
in the remains of a banquet held annu- 
ally under the auspices of the Gofftoon 
Branch of the Society for the Propaga- 
tion of the Bulger. My appetite was 
not impaired by the fact that there was 
placed before me a soup- tureen in the 
form of an exaggerated golf -ball : my 
salt-cellar was the tureen in miniature : 
the spoon I used was a diminutive 
putter with the head scooped out. On 
a table in the corner of the sitting-room 
I occupied there might be seen writing- 
paper with crossed golf clubs as a head- 
ing, pens of the shape of cleeks, and 
therefore unsuited for writing, to say 
nothing of two gentleman golfers sup- 
porting inkwells in their unwearied 
arms. 

On the way to my bedroom I passed 
94 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



the door of the room in which the ban- 
quet was proceeding. On it was pla- 
carded the following : " All interested 
in the bulgerising of the world are now 
invited to enter." I accepted the in- 
vitation, and presently I listened to a 
gentleman as he proposed the toast of 
the evening : " Prosperity to the Bul- 
ger.*' With these soul-stirring words 
he concluded an eloquent speech : — 

"Gentlemen, the principles which it 
is our aim to advance require no poor 
words of mine to recommend them to 
the approval of all. Let us struggle 
ever onward, ever upward ; let us lay 
aside all that might be prejudicial to 
the conquering career of the Bulger ; 
let us refrain from violent language 
when the sacred weapon is in our 
hands : and so, in the time that is to 
come, our one grand principle, despite 
the laughter of the ignorant and 
the sneering of the sceptic, will have 
95 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



a universal application." (Loud ap- 
plause.) 

The Chairman at this point observed 
a stranger in the company, and immedi- 
ately called upon him to say a few 
words on the progress of their prin- 
ciples in other parts of the world. I 
was the stranger, and as there was no 
escape possible, I forthwith addressed 
the meeting : — 

"Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, my 
sympathies are with you, as are the 
sympathies of the world. (Great ap- 
plause.) I venture, however, some- 
what to disagree with the gentleman 
who has just sat down. (Silence.) I 
cannot conscientiously say that I be- 
lieve the principle of the bulger — (omin- 
ous murmurings) — is applicable to the 
Cleek.'* (Storms of hissing and booing, 
amid which there came these awful 
admonitions, " Sit upon him !'* ** Put him 
out !*') I felt that something desperate 
96 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



must be done to retrieve my lost posi- 
tion. I turned towards the chair, and 
despite a scathing fire of selected mis- 
siles more or less hard, I roared at the 
pitch of my voice, — "But, gentlemen, 
when it is applied, the Cleek will be no 
longer necessary." Amid the thunder- 
ous applause that followed I disap- 
peared. 

The furnishings of my bedroom were 
remarkable. The walls were covered 
with representations of championship 

matches, and such works of art as** 

playing the First Shot with a Bul- 



ger." Various suitable admonitions 
were conveyed to the reader by means 
of cardboard and green worsted : " Tak' 
tent to be weel up on the green." " Tak' 
plenty o' sand." " Never up, never in." 
The bedcover had depicted on it golfers 
in all manner of attitudes — " At the tee," 
" In the bunker," " On the green." On 
the dressing-table there lay a book of 
97 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



rules with the inscription, *' Visitors are 
requested to read a small portion every 
evening before retiring." The follow- 
ing announcement might also be read 
upon the wall : " Two rounds must be 
played every day. It is recommended 
by the authorities that three be at- 
tempted. First round begins at 7 a. m. ; 
second round at i p.m.'' 

Notwithstanding these circumstances, 
I slept well, and was awakened by a 
voice and a knock at my bedroom door. 

" You're late, sir ; first round's begin- 
ning." 

** I haven't got my clubs," I replied. 

" Very sorry, sir," the waiter said from 
without, "but it's against the rules to 
supply lunch until the scoring-card of 
the first round has been handed in. I'll 
get you a driver and a cleek some- 
where." 

In half an hour I was on the Links, 
but I did not feel at my ease ; for all 

98 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



around were arrayed in true Gofftoon 
checks, whereas I had to remain con- 
tent with a black jacket, and nether 
garments of a very mild stripe. It was 
immediately recognized that I was an 
interloper, and I was treated according- 
ly. No caddie would play against me 
for less than ten shillings, but a desire 
for lunch forced me to come to terms. 

My first day in Gofftoon passed slowly 
away. In the afternoon I repaired again 
to the starting-point. After waiting 
for two hours and a quarter, I felt 
that I had done my duty, and so wick- 
edly I set myself to construct a score 
which might qualify me for a further 
share of the good things of the " Bulger 
Inn." I congratulated myself that the 
morrow was Sunday ; for on that day I 
might have an opportunity of consider- 
ing my embarrassing position. I pon- 
dered the cost of a correct Gofftoon 
outfit, and wondered whether my once 
99 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



having been ignorant and improper 
would for ever prevent my receiving a 
welcome. 

To my astonishment I discovered that 
the people of Gofftoon were devout. 
The instruments of daily labor were 
laid aside when Sunday came, and 
couples perambulated the Links in the 
morning, engaged in constructing imag- 
inary scores. 

I repaired in the midst of the inhabit- 
ants to the church, and listened with 
humility to the preacher as he com- 
pared the life of the righteous man to 
the flight of an "eclipse** against the 
high wind, when it is struck clean from 
the tee. Each stroke was an effort of 
the good towards the end which all 

. y^ should strife to attain. In life, he elo- 
quently remarked, there may be bad 

/ lies and difficult approaches ; but with 
faith, perseverance, and courage, these 
would be overcome, and a rest would at 

ICO 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



length be found on the Elysian Plains. 
On the other hand, the life of the wicked 
might be suitably compared to the wav- 
erings of a sixpenny **gutta*' which 
could not be fairly driven, but would 
be tossed about, so to speak, by every 
wind of doctrine, until at length it would 
be lost, or, like the wicked, find its des- 
tination at the bottom of some pit, from 
which no iron or niblick could avail to 
extricate it. 

The congregation issued from the 
church much edified by the discourse. 
In the graveyard I stopped to examine 
the tombstones, on which were many 
interesting inscriptions. Each bore 
some suitable motto, and a list of the 
golfing virtues of the departed. 

HERE LIES 



WHO DIED ON THE iST APRIL 1890 

HAVING ON THE PREVIOUS DAY 

EXCEEDED THE HUNDRED. 

lOI 



A Visit to Gofftoon 



He was far and sure in his driving : accurate 

in his approach : and deadly in his putting. 

His average round for the five 3''ears previous 

to his demise was eighty-five 

At the bottom of another stone there 
might be read — 

** He played the wrist iron shot to perfection." 

A third stone had imprinted at the 

top 

" Perseverance " 

and bore a representation of a golfer 
vigorously striving to extricate his ball 
from a hazard. His remarks on that 
particular occasion were left to the 
imagination of the reader. 

Presently, as I looked at the work of 
art, my mind was overshadowed by a 
cloud, and I found myself sitting on a 
hard backed chair. The hands of the 
clock indicated 1.45 a. m., and beside me 
there lay on the floor my portmanteau 
and golf clubs, both labelled " St. An- 
drews." 

I02 



THE GOLFING GHOST 

BY R. BARCLAY 

His name had not been mentioned 

Among the list of blest. 
Who from things mathematical 

Had found eternal rest : 
His second time attempted, 

But ploughed — I think they say — 
Yes ! ploughed by cruel Examiners, 

Close to St. Andrews Bay. 

Oh how the perspiration 

Of grief began to pour, 
As taking up his driver 

He turned towards the shore. 
One look around the College — 

He could not go astray — 
For he saw the white foam dashing 

In wild St. Andrews Bay. 

Down to the Links he hurried, 
His brow was sad and low : 
103 



The Golfing Ghost 



Already — it was pale moonlight — 
He heard the tempest blow : 

His gown was on his shoulders — 
A scarlet gown, they say — 

As he faced the raging waters 
Of old St. Andrews Bay. 

He drove from off the teeing-ground 

A never- falling ball : 
Then rushed among the surges, 

They were a fitting pall ! 
A corpse was found next morning 

Floating far, far away, 
Far from the stormy billows 

Of wild St. Andrews Bay. 

There are who tell the story. 

Some Caddies by the shore. 
How on some wintry evenings, 

When ocean tempests roar, 
A figure white's seen golfing 

Golfing, not far away, 
White as the foaming billows 

Of old St. Andrews Bay. 

104 



ALWAYS ONE HOLE DOWN 

BY W. DALRYMPLE 

OF the many yams associated with 
Largs Bay and the Links of Leven, 
the following is perhaps the most pa- 
thetic ; and though it is, as a matter of 
fact, familiar to several, it is hoped that 
it may be new to some readers. 

July is proverbially a joyous month, 
rich in merry sunshine and full of glad 
promise, and Saturday all over the 
Christian world the day of the week as- 
sociated in all minds with happy remi- 
niscences. Yet it was on the second 
Saturday of July last year that the fol- 
lowing events occurred, the sadness of 
which is only less remarkable than the 
horror which they caused. 

It is among the more primitive races 
that a short, stout man is of the great- 



Always One Hole Down 

est value — for obvious reasons. Still, 
on the golf links of civilization he may 
not be altogether despised. He is not 
only the cause of bright and rosy hope, 
and high and joyous enthusiasm in the 
hearts of his adversaries ; he is also 
productive in the breast of his own part- 
ner of that feeling of calm and pious 
resignation which we are so pleased to 
see in those of our fellows who inspire us 
with anything like affectionate in- 
terest. 

A fat little man, with a red face and 
auburn hair, and a nose poised between 
eyes which reminded one not a little of 
those aggravating balls of glass so 
much affected by the later generation 
of soda-water men ; such is the hero of 
this mournful tale, or, if you will, trag- 
edy in real life. 

Where the creature came from, we 
are now glad to be ignorant. His name 
is a rare one in our district — Smith; 
1 06 



Always One Hole Down 

but as will be gathered from the sequel, 
he preferred to be remembered by a 
name closely associated with his unhal- 
lowed deeds. 

As to his dress the less said the better. 
In the good old days in France, the 
corpse of a hanged man was frequently 
dressed in a clean shirt, should the King 
happen to pass that way. Had our 
friend lived in a golfing district in the 
France of those good old times, it would 
have been unwise to postpone the pre- 
sentation of such an article to him until 
such time as his Majesty went by ! 
But, to his honor let it be said, he aid 
not insult the memory of Old Phil^ by 
appearing in white spats. 

It is not on record that any golfer of 
experience ever chose such a man as 
partner. He is the result of a toss — a 
spin with a half-crown, the gift of some 
dread Fate. And it was in some such 
way, or, perhaps, in punishment of some 
107 



Always One Hole Down 

unconscious crime, that the writer was 
saddled with our hero. 

When our partnership was sealed, his 
look of settled gloom became more pro- 
nounced, and the tone in which he asked 
if we preferred red or black gutta was 
absolutely debilitating to one who had 
made the very hastiest of luncheons. 

Yet things went brightly and prosper- 
ously for us at first. Forceps and his 
cousin Nicodemus were foozling right 
and left. If Forceps topped his tee 
shot, Nicodemus carried on the sprightly 
sport by planting him in the nearest 
bunker. Did Nicodemus pull round in- 
to the railway, Forceps would infallibly 
send his into the nearest burn, and of 
these there are no fewer than four on 
Leven Links. One of us enjoyed the 
fun immensely, but it was not our hero: 
on the contrary, when we at length 
came to be five up and six to play, his 
dejection became worthy only of Dart- 
1 08 



Always One Hole Down 

moor or a Friendly Girls* Picnic to 
Auchterarder or Freuchie. 

"Well, Sir," I said, with what I fondly 
imagined to be cheering courtesy, 
" you certainly have played a stunning 
game ; just fancy being five up and six 
to play against Forceps and his cousin 
Nicodemus !" 

"Ah, that's all very well; but," he 
added, with a weary sigh worthy of a 
spider in a fly-paper manufactory, " you 
don't know." 

This rather pained me, because, 
though not much of a player myself, I 
know a great deal about it, and, in fact, 
have often given invaluable advice to 
people who fancy they know a great deal 
more than I do ; and to be thus told 
that I did not know was unkind, if not 
indeed actually offensive. Unwilling, 
however, to provoke any unpleasant- 
ness, I mildly remarked : " How, sir?" 

"Ah! you don't know all," he re- 
109 



Always One Hole Down 

peated, with a groan which reminded 
me of dentists and cod-liver oil. " No, 
sir ! you don't know all/' 

" Look here ! If youVe committed 
any crime of unusual atrocity, please 
don't mention it till this game is over," 
I said hastily. "By the way, what's 
your name ?" for, as a matter of fact, by 
reason of its extreme rarity in our dis- 
trict, it had for the time escaped my 
memory. 

"My name is one not unknown in 
poetry and prose, but principally the 
latter. I am usually, however, more 
widely known in the golfing world as 
the *Man who is always one hole 
down.' " 

" Get away !" I exclaimed, with a 
sickly effort at gaiety ; for, though I 
had never actually met the creature be- 
fore, I had often heard whispers of his 
existence, and he undoubtedly spoke in 
a tone of veracity. 

no 



Always One Hole Down 

** Yes ; always one hole down ! Some- 
times more — never less ! It is indeed a 
doleful doom.'* Here he brushed away 
a tear with his sleeve, and dropped a 
pace behind. 

" But what about your unlucky part- 
ners ? can't you make a change just this 
once — for my sake ?" I exclaimed with 
some unworthy selfishness. '* You know 
it's pretty rough on me." 

" True ; but what of myself ? Often 
do I hear the sunny laugh and the 
merry voice prate and babble of its four 
— five — six — even of its eighteen holes 
up ; and I, always, always one down — 
and sometimes more !" 

"Is there no hope of breaking this 
nefarious spell ?" I exclaimed with some 
dismay, for Nicodemus had just laid a 
long putt dead. 

" None !" he replied with a resigned 
look ; and he added, with a shudder, 
"Ha! she comes!" 

Ill 



Always One Hole Down 

^* Who ?" I cried with a jump ; for he 
startled us, and there were dozens of 
Highland cattle pasturing on the Links. 
If he meant a cow, I determined to go 
home at once, or, at all events, escape 
to the other side of the railway. 

" She is on the other side of that knoll 
just now. I hear her ; you will prob- 
ably see her in the course of five min- 
utes." 

" Thunder ! Is she charging V* I cried 
in perfectly excusable anxiety. 

" Charging ?'' he echoed, with a long 
slow moan ; " charging ? Alas ! she is 
already charged, primed, and ready for 
action." 

There now appeared over the knoll in 
front of us a pretty young creature of 
some four feet six or so, winsomely 
robed in gray, of a curious shade, with 
a red jacket and sunshade of the same 
color. She was accompanied by two 
Maltese terriers, whose knowledge of 

112 



Always One Hole Down 

Pears' must, from the delicious white 
silkiness of their hair, have been pro- 
found in the extreme ; and on a chain 
trotted a pug, with black warty muz- 
zle, and a tail curled in a knot that it 
would have been the joy of a Coleraine 
pig to bite. 

**Ha! who comes here?" cried For- 
ceps and Nicodemus, for they have both 
a nice taste in such matters. 

" It is my wife," said our partner with 
an extremely depressing mixture of 
wail, whistle and whine. " She always 
takes a turn out with the dogs, and 
walks home with me." 

"Is that the reason," I whispered 
sternly, " of you know what ?" 

** Always one hole down!" he mur- 
mured. 

And, as a matter of fact, at the end of 
the game so we were ! 



"3 



BALLADE OF THE DUFFER 

BY W. CAINE 

You may sing of the joys of a drive, 

When the ball whistles far through 
the air : 
I know you are keenly alive 

To the pleasure of hitting it fair. 
For me, that achievement is rare, 

I strike either space or the tee, 
But never the ball. I don't care : 

Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 

I never would willingly strive 

By argument, scoffing, or prayer, 
A Golfer, though bad, to deprive 

Of his just and legitimate share 
Of a game which it's safe to declare 

Will be played till 3000 a. d., 
When I shall be — goodness knows 
where : 

Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 
114 



Ballade of the Duffer 

You say — " If the long hole in five 

I compass, no joys can compare." 
Or again — " If a loft I contrive 

To make even the Champion stare ; 
What rapture !" Especially where 

Those bunkers lie close to the sea ; 
I know what it is to be there : 

Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 

l'envoi. 
Prince ! this fact remains : that howe'er 

The town of St. Andrews, N. B., 
Its praises and glories may blare. 

Golf isn't the pastime for me ! 



"5 



LINES ON BEING ASKED TO 
CONTRIBUTE TO THIS BOOK 

BY R. F. MURRAY 

Some words on Golf I am desired to 
utter : 
I, who care nothing for the noble 
game, 
Who do not know a niblick from a putter 
(Perhaps they are the same) ; 

I, who have suffered by the hour to- 
gether 
From idle blockheads talking golfer's 
shop, 
Until I had to introduce the weather 
Or the potato crop. 

Not that all golfers are such bores to be 
with ; 
Some, I believe, are reasonable men. 
Some, whose acquaintance Fate has 
favored me with, 
I will not meet again. 
ii6 



Lines 

And now the terror of their conversation 
Confines itself no more to living 
speech. 

Take any paper for an illustration : — 
Golf is the theme of each. 

The Sootsman and Dispatch a column lavish 
When Old Tom Morris opens a new 
green; 
They grudged five lines when Doctor 
Neil M*Tavish 
Opened a church at Skene. 

The papers find the game seductive, 
The very magazines and the reviews 

Print verse and prose which is, I hope, 
instructive. 
For it does not amuse. 

If devotees of football and of cricket 
Should clog the press with innings 
and with maul, 
And rabid scribes be always on the 
wicket, 
Or always on the ball — 
117 



Lines 

As devotees of golf, with frenzy drunker, 
Riot in type and suffer no control, 

And rabid scribes are always in a 
bunker, 
Or always in a hole — 

Would people stand the former like the 
latter ? 
An answer to the question might be 
guessed, 
But since this is a book on Golf, no mat- 
ter — 
Silence perhaps is best. 



ii8 



DICTIONARY OP GOLF 

BY D. IRONS 

Beginner — One who should be ashamed of 
himself^ and generally is. 

Bunker — Quiet spot to which a player re- 
tires for the purpose of making a 
few disjointed remarks. 

Bum — Institution for adding to the un- 
certainties of the game^ and the cer- 
tainties of the ball-maker. 

Oaddie — Gentleman of leisure^ who for a 
consideration will consent to sneer at 
you for a whole round. 

Driver — Most sympathetic of the tyro's in- 
struments. When its owner loses 
his head it is apt to do the same. 

Golfer — Sort of cross between a martyr 
and a monomaniac. 

Good stroke — One that lands your oppo- 
nent in a bunker. 
119 



Dictionary of Golf 



Hole — A cavity much smaller than the 
ordinary bunker^ and jnuch less en- 
ticing to the ball. 

Match — Game arranged with a man you 
can beat. 

Perfect stroke — One that plants your oppo- 
nent's ball among the roots of a whin. 

Bound — A voluntary penance — best test of 
temper known, 

Eound of eighty — One that is generally 
done in the absence of a marker. 

Short putt — Stroke often missed by a good 
player : by a beginner — never, 

Tvixi— Grass carefully preserved by the 
player for the beginner's benefit, 

TTncertainty of the Game — What is suggested 
to you when M' Foozle manages to 
hit the ball. 



I20 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



10 020 237 056 1 



A BATCH <- 
GOLFING PAPERS 



i ^ 



ANDREW^ LANG 



